


What Am I, An Errand Boy?

by OtherCat



Series: Chronology [2]
Category: Chrno Crusade
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aion goes grocery shopping in this Post-Manga AU. Everyone survives the experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Am I, An Errand Boy?

Aion looked upon the abyss, and the abyss looked back. Then he turned into the parking lot of the grocery store, and tried to find a parking space. After a great deal of annoyance, he located a parking space, and exited his car. "Well, that's the first circle of Hell," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"She's just testing her boundaries, Aion. It's perfectly natural at this phase. Give Florette time to get used to her new situation and she'll be fine," Shader had said. The reasoning sounded suspiciously like the result of Shader's current talk show addiction. Aion thought seriously about banning Oprah from the house, but realized he'd never be able to make it stick. Chrono would laugh at him, and Shader would just set up a portable television in the shed.  
  
_It's the principle of the thing._ He had told Fiore to never ask him to go shopping again, and he'd _meant it._ Coming back to life shouldn't put a reset button on what was a clearly stated directive. Except it apparently _had_ hit a reset button, because Florette was "testing her boundaries." Aion wished she'd chosen some other way to "test her boundaries" beside sending him out to do the weekly grocery shopping. Like having the carpets dyed purple and vomit green, and hanging bright orange curtains in all the windows. Or staying out all hours of the night and bringing home strange men.  
  
Aion stalked over to where the grocery carts were enmeshed in a conga line of chrome. It took a great deal of care to get the cart disentangled _without_ breaking it, since the carts hadn't exactly been designed with demons in mind, and had an alarming tendency to crumple if he wasn't careful. He shook and jiggled the cart carefully until it came loose from the line. It took a great deal of patience to not snarl at the little old lady who, when she saw him unhook his cart from its slightly obscene relationship with the cart before it, and tried to get him to unhook _her_ cart. Fortunately (for the little old lady), a carry-out intervened, and gave her one of the carts he was bringing in from the parking lot.  
  
_So, to battle._ Aion threaded his way past shoppers and navigated the aisles of the store. The cart had one wheel that was stuck, which made steering problematic, but he wasn't going to go back to unhook another cart. _Staples first,_ he reminded himself. If you sent Shader to the store for bread, milk and eggs, she'd come back with strawberry flavored milk, rice cakes, peanut butter, three varietals of apple, a household appliance, a desk lamp, and no eggs. Chrono would buy exactly what you sent him out for, plus whatever you forgot to add to the list. Fiore had been the same way, except you never had to tell her in the first place.  
  
Aion, confronted with the selections availible, hit a road block. What size of eggs? Should he get the medium, large or extra-large sizes? Why buy "small" eggs? Why were the only eggs sold (aside from specialty stores) chicken eggs? Why was there a price difference between the store brand and the commercial brand? Could the store guarantee that the "organic eggs" actually came from free range chickens? Was the term "free-range" clearly defined? Free-range could mean "confined to a six by twelve foot pen with fifty other chickens," after all. Did "organic farms" undergo an accreditation process? Aion selected two cartons of large brown eggs, taking care to see that the eggs were unbroken and smelled fresh.  
  
The selection process in the twenties and thirties hadn't been any easier. The choice range had been smaller, but the advertisements had been much more deceptive. The forties and fifties had been funny in a sad sort of way, and the sixties and seventies were ridiculous. Advertisements during the latter half of the eighties and early nineties became self-referential and ironic, which suddenly made television much more watchable, because the advertisements weren't making Aion's brain explode (as often) with their ridiculous claims.    
  
Aion barely avoided two collisions with another cart when he became distracted by a display, or an advertisement blaring over the intercom. Trying not to hum along with the music _(Take a letter, Maria, address it to my wife...)_ He worked his way down the shopping list, then stopped in the floral section when he saw miniature roses in little terra cotta pots. He selected a red rose plant, and put it in the cart.  
  
The lines to the checkout stands were long, and Aion had the misfortune to be stuck in a line that had been stalled by an incredibly annoying woman who kept arguing with the cashier about an advertisement. Finally, a manager was brought in to reason with the obstinate woman, but the woman wasn't having any of it. "The customer is always right!" She declared loudly when the manager attempted to placate her.  
  
"Unless of course they're using a flyer from an _entirely different grocery chain,_ " Aion said. The cashier turned pink, and covered her snort of laughter with a cough. The manager and the others in line didn't bother to conceal their snickers.  
  
The idiot woman stared at him bug-eyed. "Mind your own damn business!"  
  
"You're stalling the line, and wasting my time. Which makes it my business."  
  
"Fuck you!" The woman said, turning red.  
  
"Hey, there's kids here!" A woman with two children at the next checkout stand said angrily.   
  
"Get a grip," another customer said.  
  
Aion smirked.  
  
The woman turned stiffly, and gabbled something about price-matching. She was informed that the store didn't do price-matching, which resulted in the woman sullenly returning most of her groceries, and paying for the remainder. With a nasty glare at Aion, she hauled her cart away from the stand, and stomped out of the store. The woman's response to the cashier's truly evil "Have a nice day!" was inarticulate swearing.  
  
When it was Aion's turn, he loaded the contents of his cart onto the belt, supervised the bagging of his groceries, paid the cashier, and declined the offer of assistance to his car.  
  
Mission accomplished.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> "Take A Letter Maria" lyrics by R.B. Greaves


End file.
